Chapter 30

Kingston

The woman being presented in the press was not one I knew. And that was the problem. Even with my formal message telling people to back off of Cora during the warehouse photo drama, they couldn’t resist pinning my poisoning on her, sensing blood in the water.

The result was an endless supply of lies and gossip being published. Supposed firsthand accounts and doctored images.

Evidence, they called it.

A mountain of so-called “proof” against Cora.

My jaw clenched as I continued scrolling, gripping the tablet hard enough to make my hands ache. Whoever had put this together knew what they were doing. The pieces were stitched together almost seamlessly—almost. They wanted it to look inevitable, obvious, even to me.

But they made one critical mistake: They underestimated the fact that I actually knew Cora.

I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling as frustration prickled along my spine.

Cora wasn’t a traitor. She wasn’t an opportunist, or a schemer, or whatever narrative the council was so desperate to shove down the public’s throat.

She was steady. Fierce. Loyal in a way few had ever been to me without expecting something in return.

I had heard from Ethan about how she’d acted the night I was taken to the hospital. He had told me about how she’d tried to fight her way to me through the guards, eyes wild with fear.

You don’t fake that kind of desperation.

You don’t fake the kind of loyalty that fights even when the world is burning around you.

No, this wasn’t her doing. I was certain of it.

It was even more plainly obvious that it was the result of corruption and lies when she handed me a folder full of counterevidence. I wasn’t about to let these wolves tear her apart to protect their own secrets.

I rose from my chair in one swift movement, the chair rolling back with a muted squeak against the polished floors. I had a feeling I knew who was responsible.

Enough.

Time to end this.

The press conference was brutal in its efficiency.

Flashes from cameras burst against the backdrop of the lobby, where I stood before the podium, flanked by my most trusted pack advisors. Ethan was poised at my right side.

As my gaze swept the room, my eyes caught on Amy, where she stood off to the side, trying to look poised and professional, but I could see the tension in her rigid posture.

Good.

I wanted her to know this was coming.

"I am aware," I said, voice steady and sharp enough to cut glass, "of the rumors circulating regarding the recent events at the work party I hosted and the gossip regarding my human secretary."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd of journalists and pack members.

I let them stir for a beat before continuing.

"Let me be perfectly clear," I said, my gaze sweeping over them. "Like last time, the speculation is all wrong.

“My secretary is not suspected of wrongdoing,” I continued, “and any further attempts to spread falsehoods regarding her involvement will be considered acts of defamation against a member of my administration and dealt with accordingly."

I didn’t raise my voice.

I didn’t have to.

The threat was there, woven into every clipped syllable.

Let them make the mistake of ignoring it.

"This matter is closed," I finished. "There will be no further discussion."Please consider investing your time in finding the true perpetrator.”

My eyes locked on Amy momentarily, and I saw her stiffen.

With that, I stepped down from the podium, ignoring the shouted questions, the snapping flashes, the frantic scribbling of notes.

In the corner of my eye, I caught Amy’s furious expression before she smoothed it back into something polite.

I hoped it burned.

Later that afternoon, I called Cora into my office.

She entered quietly, acting as her usual composed self, though I didn’t miss the faint tightness around her eyes—the telltale signs of a woman who had been standing in a storm for far too long.

"Cora," I said, keeping my tone neutral but warm enough to cut through the iciness that had grown between us these last few weeks, "I need you to oversee planning for the upcoming parent-child retreat."

She blinked, momentarily thrown.

I didn’t blame her. It wasn’t her typical assignment, especially coming off the heels of this most recent scandal. But I was sure, like me, she wanted to proceed as though nothing had happened, like everything was utterly normal.

She nodded, stepping forward to take the packet of preliminary information I held out. Her fingers brushed mine lightly.

I added casually, loud enough for Amy and the other executives lingering nearby to hear, "You should bring your son to the event, too. Riley would enjoy it."

Silence rippled through the office like a dropped stone.

Cora froze for half a heartbeat, surprise flickering in her eyes before she masked it neatly away. It broke something in me to know that for a breath she was fearful of what it would mean to bring her human son among werewolves.

"Of course, sir," she said finally, her voice even.

Good.

Let them all see.

Linking my family name with hers in public, inviting her and her son to an event where bloodlines mattered.

A human and her child, standing alongside the Alpha King.

The message was clear: She belonged. And anyone who dared to touch her again would answer to me.

I caught the seething look Amy threw my way before she stormed off.

Patience, I thought grimly.

Let her come to me.

Let her reveal how desperate she really was.

She found me in the east wing hallway ten minutes later.

Amy's heels clicked furiously against the marble floors as she caught up to me, grabbing my arm with a boldness that would’ve gotten anyone else thrown to the ground by my guards.

But I had been expecting and waiting for her.

"Kingston," she hissed, voice low and venomous. "We need to talk."

I stopped, turning to face her fully.

Amy’s features were a carefully crafted mask, but I saw the crack running right down the middle—the raw frustration, the fear.

“Do we?” I asked, arching a brow.

"You’re making a mistake," she said, stepping in closer. "Tying yourself to her. To them. It’s political suicide."

"You mean refusing to let you frame an innocent woman for your own power grab?" I asked coolly. "Yes, Amy. Very reckless of me."

Her mouth tightened.

"You think you’re protecting her," she said. "But you’re not. She’s weak. Human. She’ll drag you down."

I leaned in, letting my voice drop into something low and dangerous.

"You’re out of your depth, Amy," I said. "And you’re dangerously close to reminding everyone exactly why you’ll never sit in the seat on the executive board you’re so desperate to claim."

She flinched, just a little.

"I won’t warn you again," I said. "Stop fucking with Cora or you’ll see the full force of what happens when you disobey an Alpha King."

Amy's mouth twisted into something ugly, but she said nothing. Just turned on her heel and stalked away, the sharp clicks of her heels fading into the marble silence.

I watched her go, the cold weight of anger settling low in my gut.

This wasn’t finished.

But neither was I.